[	Tags	|	damned hippies, landru, occupy, star trek	]
[	Current Location	|	Valdez, Alaska	]
[	mood	|	okay	]
[	music	|	Who's afraid of the Art of Noise? - The Art of Noise	]

Every time I ask anyone who supports the Occupation of Wall Street for an accounting of any accomplishments, all I get in return is “You just have to go and experience one occupation.”  Instantly, I am reminded of one of my all time favorite Star Trek Episodes: The Return of the Archons.   “Are you of the body?  Peace and contentment be with you brother” says Dr. McCoy, with a glazed, almost zombified look in his eyes.  He had experienced the absorption chamber and became one with the computer Landru.

When I ask any supporter of OWS, what have they/you accomplished?  All I get are vague answers – many filled with little passive/aggressive barbs; “You just haven’t experienced one yet man”… that sort of sentiment.  The most common answers are awareness of the issues to the main stream. Before OWS, the media was focusing on a lot of issues which dragged the conversation away from focusing on the problem.  This is groovy but, this leaves the question open for the main goal and how it could be achieved.

So far, not a single occupier can address this.

While sitting in my History of American Theater class, listening to a presentation on a playwright, a semi traumatic childhood memory surfaced.   From the age of 9 to 12, my parents went through a string of live in nannies.  They could not pay these people, but they did offer room and board.  In this three year period, our family went through about seven…maybe up to ten Nannies. 

The first nanny was this young woman, in her early 20’s. All I remember is that she was a bit flighty and she had big boobies, which I could see through her clothes since she did not wear a bra.  This could have been the major factor, for dad wanting to hire her. Her entrance to the family and the job was about 11pm one rainy night. Naturally, she took Dad’s words “Make yourself at home” straight to heart, in an instant, she was drying her clothes, waking up the whole house. According to Mom, she argued about the use of the dryer so late at night, even after my mother offered to lend her some dry clothes. 

By Morning, Mom had her single bag packed and in the car. I am not sure exactly how long it took to replace her, or exactly which Nanny followed her, however, I wish to share the specific memory of “Alfred” (not his real name) right now.

“Alfred” was an older, stuffy, erudite man. I remember his thin Vandyke beard, long droning, pedantic tone.  He was going through the last stages of a divorce.  By the time we all learned this, everyone in our family (except my baby sister who was 4 at the time).  Oddly, both my parents liked him since he was practical and no nonsense - i.e. he got us to do our chores and homework every day.  My parents would come home from work, to at least a full two page, single spaced, type written note from “Alfred” about the affairs of the day.  Many of which were minor grievances; “you did not provide enough garbage bags”  “I would like this sort of sleeping arrangement” peppered with how each of us children behaved that day.  Good or bad, he wrote it down. 

Naturally, there is one day that stood out for me, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing about it. In fact, it was a fall evening, about 7pm.  I had finished my homework; now all I had to do was take out the trash.  Upon reflection, I may have hemmed and hawed and dragged my ass going about completing my chore for the night, but I did wind up taking the bag out of the can, tying it up (at his urging) Replacing the bin with a new liner. Climbed up the 32 steps, lifting the bag into the metal trash bin on the car port. Put the can out at the edge of said car port.  “Alfred” being the fastidious type, noted I had used the last liner. Now it was my task to find another one. Just one.  We lived at least two miles from the store. My Allowance was being held in the bank of Mom and Dad.  My stubborn logic spewed out that we had one empty trash liner in the bin already. My parents will buy more tomorrow, said I.  

Oh no. for Mr. OCD, this was not enough.  He then became stern, not angry at this point, but firm, that I go up and down the street until I found just one trash can liner.   I stood my ground… which lasted five minutes seconds.  “Alfred” was a grown up, I was a small(ish) skinny nine year old who knew when he was overwhelmed.  Flashlight in hand, he marched right behind me on HIS quest to find a single trash can liner.   Obviously, I was not going on this insane quest without making him pay for it.  I bitched and moaned all 15 minutes it took to find a neighbor who was A) at home and B) had one to spare. 

I expressed my clear intentions to tell my parents MY side of this event when they got home.  “Alfred”, to my surprise, allowed it.  You guessed it, all that energy used in my protesting wore me out right quick.  Mom and Dad came home that night to, what had to be, a bit longer type written note from “Alfred”.

I should ask either of my parents if any of the “Alfred” notes survived..

[	Tags	|	fate	]
[	Current Location	|	Valdez, Alaska	]
[	mood	|	contemplative	]
[	music	|	Lips like Sugar - Echo and the Bunnymen	]

Last week, while walking around town, a thought, a glorious thought sparked inside my head.  It was not the voice of god, jesus, zeus or even Capitan Kirk.  This thought needed to be written down immediately because it would make the world a better place, it was right and good. And nobody would have to  get nailed to a tree this time.

While no extra terrestrial demolition crew came to destroy Earth at that moment, the fucking brilliant thought evaporated from my brain the second I opened the door.  

On the plus side, my "lifetime ban" from KCHU has been lifted. The previous General manager handed them out like Halloween candy to anyone who did not play country music. (no joke) I am back on the air every Wensday night - 9pm to 11pm (Alaska Time,which is one hour behind Pacific time.)  For those not in Valdez, Alaska, you can tune in on the interweb at   http://kchu.org/

[	Tags	|	ows, school, theater, video games	]
[	Current Location	|	Valdez, Alaska	]
[	mood	|	exhausted	]
[	music	|	some 90s grunge...	]

Ever since the Occupation of Wall Street began, I’ve wanted to write my reactions and observations about the whole thing.   Each week, something else came up that drew my attention away, school, work, sleep, work or school. 

Then Oblivion (a video game for those not in the know.) crept in a few hours of my time.

Maybe next entry, I’ll get around to posting my thoughts on the biggest exercise in futility in all history (to date.)

The results from the endoscopy are late in posting.  Shiny things kept popping up everywhere… I swear!   Anyway, the doctor called to tell me the endoscopy found Barrett’s syndrome  A common enough malady (under 10%) where the esophagus grows a coating – very likely from persons with acid reflux (which I have) Plus, they found I have a hiatal hernia.   These two conditions explain why I was throwing up (bright red) spots of blood at least two times a month.  The doctor (and many friends) pointed out the fact the blood was red was a good sign that something sinister, like Cancer, was not present. 

Hurray!

I suppose an update on the acting class situation last week is in order.  Right?  

Right.

I was fully prepared to sit in class, refusing to do the scene at all.  Yes, I was willing to risk an F just to teach the idiot.   That very morning hours before class, the instructor sent out an email stating that more than half the class had called in (or emailed in) sick. Class would be canceled that day.  

Since then, we had two full rehearsals.   The scene (from “Somewhere Between”) will be quite good.

I’ve been wondering why so many people on Facebook were genuinely concerned over my recovery over a simple endoscopy.  After mulling it over for a week, I can only suspect that people dwell on the horror stories they hear of people (mostly idiots) who wind up dead going through a simple procedure. A medical procedure that hundreds of thousands of medical professionals perform at least 10 times a day at the very least. Bottom line here, less than 2% of endoscopies alone performed in a year, go wrong.  

The ones that do go wrong are due to negligence on the patient, not the medial staff.  For those who have not gone through any day surgery, at the very least, one nurse and your doctor will ask you some very personal questions.  In fact, they will say, “these are very personal questions – but you need to answer them honestly.”   Failure to answer one of the questions honestly can produce a complication in a simple procedure. 

For the record, I answered every single question fully.  At least within the limits of my memory.  

Next time you know someone who is going to get simple day surgery, instead of wishing them well, remind them to answer all the questions in the screening process without any fear or shame. 

…then you can wish them well. :P